


First Dances, Feasts, and other Fights

by castaliareed



Series: Songs of the Starklings [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Love Triangle, Injury, Jealous Jon, Silly Sansa, Starklings, Young Starks - Freeform, implied future relationship, sansa has a crush, stark kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: Winterfell has visitors from the Vale and Sansa couldn't be more excited. Her half-brother Jon is less enthralled.





	1. Part 1 - Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift made for a JonSa challenge.  
> I may add future chapters to this story at a later date. We shall see. Perhaps a Jon POV would be nice. - Done added the Jon POV!

Sansa stood on the battlements next to her sister and her best friend watching the procession of knights enter the gates of Winterfell. 

"Real knights,"  she swooned admiring the mounted men with silver-gray cloaks flapping in the wind. "Real knights, come to the North!" Knights sworn to House Royce, one of the oldest houses in the Vale had accompanied their liege lord, Yohn Royce or Bronze Yohn as he was called. Most of the knights wore armor made of a light steel. They carried arms with black iron studs on bronze, bordered with runes.

"Look at them all," Jeyne Poole added. Sansa pretended not to notice Arya's huge smile. Her little sister was just as excited as they were. Though, Sansa thought a reserved expression would be better. The Vale Knights would think they had never seen knights before if they stared wide-eyed with awe. 

 In a truth, it was a small procession, no more than twenty or so men. Bronze Yohn was bringing his son North to join the Night's Watch. He had brought no more men than was necessary for the journey. For, Sansa it might as well have been hundreds. It was not every day that knights came to the North. It was not any day that knights came to the North. Most northerners worshipped the old Gods and knights must say their vows to the new gods of the Seven. Very few Knights even existed north of the Neck much to Sansa disappointment.

The girl had read all of the stories and learned as many songs as she could about knights and princesses and maidens. In preparation for the visitors from the Vale, she had been reading about Ser Artys Arryn, the Falcon Knight. 

"Girls" a voice called. All three turned to see Septa Mordane striding toward them. "Your Lady Mother would like you to come this instant. You must be presented to Lord Royce and his son." Sansa squealed with Jeyne. Arya screwed her face at her sister. 

Sansa and Arya were brought to their Lady Mother in Winterfell's crowded courtyard. Jeyne ran off to stand with her father, the castle's steward. Sansa took a deep breath trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. 

She watched her Lord Father greet an older man who appeared to be Lord Royce. There was a much younger man next to him, maybe 16 or 17 years old. He was tall with dark wavy hair. His face was long and comely. Sansa thought even from a distance, she could see his gray eyes. She felt her stomach flip just a little when she heard Lord Royce introduce the youth to her father as his son, Ser Waymar Royce. 

Lord Royce was escorting him to Castle Black where he would formally join the Night's Watch. He would take the black and defend the realm for the Wildlings just like Sansa's Uncle Benjen. She imagined he would become very heroic.  _A knight and a hero and so handsome._  

When it came to be Sansa and Arya's turn to be introduced, she could barely lift her eyes to look at him. Lord Royce was kind and Ser Waymar took her and Arya's hands kissing them gallantly. Sansa thought she would faint.  _A knight was kissing her hand._  She was jolted out of her day dream by Lord Royce's loud voice.

"Aye, that one must be your natural son, Stark," he said nodding his head towards, Jon Snow, Sansa's half-brother who was stood behind the true-born Stark children. Without looking, Sansa could see her Lady mother wincing. 

"Yes," her father replied. Motioning to Jon, he said, "Come here, son" Jon moved forward to greet Lord Royce.

"Yes, let me meet the child named for our noble Lord of the Vale," he said. "He looks like a Royce," Bronze Yohn jested.

"I heard Royces get their looks from Starks," Lord Stark returned the jest.

"That we do," laughed the older man. Sansa glanced up to see her Lady Mother's face turned into a cold mask. She would not be happy hearing Jon commented on. It was true he looked more a Stark than her or their older brother Robb. Sansa could not see why that was such a problem, though it seemed to bother her mother very much. 

Sansa and Arya were quickly shooed away as the horses were stabled and supplies unloaded. She walked back to the Great with only thoughts of the kiss Ser Waymar had placed on her hand.

In a sen week's time, there was to be a large feast in honor of their guests from the Vale. Sansa could barely contain herself with the thought of a feast. A feast with Knights, was a dream come true. 

The first two mornings the Royces were at Winterfell, the men went hunting. Sansa caught but one or two glances at Ser Waymar at the evening meal much to her disappointment. The third day the men and older boys trained in the yard. She found herself leaving her harp lesson to go watch the men from the covered walkway. 

"What are you doing here," Arya said when she found Sansa watching from the ledge. 

"Just watching," she said in calmest voice. Arya eyed her.

"I thought you didn't like fighting," she said.

"Don't be silly," she responded. "Everyone likes watching knights fight." Arya made a grunting sound and sat next to her sister. 

The girls spent half the morning watching the men train. Their Lord Father fought Lord Royce and was soundly defeated as was Ser Rodrick. Even the boys took part. Sansa ooed and ahhed when Ser Waymar fought the other men. She thought him very valiant. She didn't notice her half-brother Jon Snow glancing up at them from the yard. She did notice when he stepped forward to try his hand at Ser Waymar.

"What is he doing?" she whispered to Arya. "Ser Waymar is more than a head taller and at least 3 or 4 years older."

"Jon's a better swordsman than him," Arya said.

"Is he?" wondered Sansa. Jon was strong with a sword but what could he do against someone older and bigger. Even she knew her brothers were still considered green boys amongst the older men. As much as she wanted to see Ser Waymar victorious in the yard, she did not want to see Jon get hurt. "He's being foolish," she said to herself. 

Arya was engrossed in the fight. Jon was going after Ser Waymar hard. His hits fast and carrying as much force as he possibly could muster. They danced around each other. Ser Waymar at first answered Jon's blows with a half-hearted effort. Sansa thought this seemed to anger Jon pushing him to swing harder.  _Thank goodness they were only using tourney swords with blunted edges._ The older men chuckled at first but as the fight continued Sansa saw her Lord Father furrow his brow.  Jon was fighting as if he meant to win. Ser Waymar realized he would have to put in real effort unless he wanted to have his head rung by at 13 year old. Sansa noticed a flutter in her stomach watching the two fight. 

The blows came harder and faster.  _They could be dancers if they weren't trying to kill each other._  Jon took each hit and kept coming back for more. Sansa winced, he would be in pain tomorrow. Ser Waymar lifted his sword high and Jon lunged a second two slowly. He fell past the older boy who gave him a sharp whack in the ribs before Jon was on to the ground. Pointing his sword to Jon's neck, Ser Waymar demanded he yield. For a moment, Jon refused gritting his teeth. Until their Lord Father came over. Without knowing it Sansa felt proud of Jon for refusing to yield.  _We are wolves aren't we._

"All right that's enough," he said kneeling to help Jon up. "You showed yourself well, son. No doubt in a few years Ser Waymar will be yielding to you." Sansa had to agree with her father there.  _Jon would be a strong swordsman when he's a man grown._  She smiled at the thought. 

Ser Waymar laughed. "Mayhaps, I will." he held out a hand to show Jon he had no hard feelings over the fight. Jon stared long and hard at him before being nudged by his father to shake the older boy's hand. Sansa thought he looked as if he wanted to murder Ser Waymar. 

"What's he so mad about?" Arya said. 

"He just got beat," Sansa said to his sister. Arya pursed her mouth in thought before running off to the gods know where. Sansa watched the training awhile longer. Imagining Ser Waymar gallantly fighting dragons in her honor. She didn't notice Jon was watching her from the yard while Maester Luwin tended his bruises.

Septa Mordane soon came after her, telling her it was time for her afternoon lessons. Sansa went along promising herself she would watch every morning until the knights left.  And she kept that promise. Jon was not allowed to train for a week on account of his bruised ribs. Sansa thought he was very unhappy about that because he proceeded to give Ser Waymar angry glares when the young knight was not looking. 

The day before the feast Sansa tried hard to concentrate on her lessons when she was not stealing off to the training yard see the Knights. This afternoon the men were meeting to discuss ruling matters. She decided to hide away in the small room she used to practice her harp. Her excitement had grown and she found she could hardly remember her favorite songs. Trying to sing of Aemon the dragon knight and his love for Queen Naerys the words would not come to her. All Sansa could do was think of how handsome the Vale Knights would look at the feast. Perhaps, Ser Waymar would ask her to dance. She had dreamt he kissed on the lips not just the hand. Jeyne Poole laughed at the idea saying he was much too old to ask Sansa to dance. Sansa disagreed, she was already a girl of 10 and Lord Eddard Stark's eldest daughter it would be an insult if he did not ask her to dance. Beside her name day was in a moon's turn.  _Girls younger than that were already betrothed, and sometimes too much older men, men older than Ser Waymar_. Sansa cringed to think of girls in those unfortunate situations. 

Giving up her song, Sansa threw down her harp.  _I should practice my dancing for the feast._ Standing in the middle of the room Sansa began to move in a close circle with her arms raised. She hummed to herself to keep the time. Imagining that the dark handsome Ser Waymar was her partner, she pretended to gaze demurely into his gray eyes. 

A heavy bump against the half-open door startled Sansa. Whipping around, she caught a glimpse of a taller figure walking away from the door. She ran to see who had been spying on her. Not more than a few feet down the hall she saw the back of Jon. 

"Jon Snow," she called out with her hands on her hips. He turned around keeping his eyes towards the floor. "What were you doing?" she asked her eyes narrowing. 

"I was..." he said..

"Spying on me?" she accused.

"No..I was just passing by the door," he said running his hand through his messy dark hair. The lose waves fell back into his face. Sansa tilted her head to the side and sighed. 

"If you're going to spy you could at least help me practice," she said.

"Me!" he said starting to shake his head.

"Would that be so awful?"

Jon stared at the floor before shrugging his shoulders, acquiescing to Sansa's demand. He followed her into the room. She grabbed him by the arms, pulling him to face her. Admonishing him to stand straighter.

"Let me lead, first," she told him. "So you can learn the steps. Then it's your turn." She thought she heard Jon mumble a response. She looked up at him to see what he was saying. Instantly, he turned away from her. Being three years her elder, he was taller than her. Though, everyone said Sansa would be as tall as her brothers one day. Still, she was forced to raise her arms higher. This was good practice if she were to have a chance to dance with any of the Knights. Most were even taller than Jon.

"Jon, you must look at a lady when you dance with her," she told him.  _He is hopeless._   _But he is the best person to practice with. The only one around._

Sansa began to count out the steps in her sweetest sing-songy voice. Jon followed along as best he could. She noticed he started to relax after several minutes. She smiled at him. His gray eyes softened as they moved around the room. If Sansa didn't know better she thought Jon Snow was enjoying this. She realized it was the first time they had ever danced together. 

"You know you are good at this," she said. 

"At what?" he asked

"Dancing," she said.

"No," he said shaking his head.

"You are," she said. "You are." He looked away, Sansa could see him smiling though. He was really quite graceful she thought. If he practiced even a bit, he would be a very good dancer.  _He would have to stop turning red any time a lady spoke to him._

"Now it's your turn to lead," she told him. They switched their hand positions slightly. He placed his hand on her waist. She noticed her stomach jump ever so slightly. Sansa began to count their steps. Jon gently guided her around the room. She left off counting and began to hum a song. "See you are doing well." she encouraged him. Jon turned an even brighter red. Sansa almost giggled to herself realizing how shy he was. She thought he doesn't even know that he's will be handsome one day. Jon lost track of his steps and his foot came down hard on top of Sansa's.

"Owwww" she yelled backing away and turning her ankle in the process. Jon looked horrofied as he watched her fall to the ground holding her foot. 

"I'm..Sansa..are you..." he started to say going to kneel next to her. 

"Ow ow ow.." was all that would come out of her mouth as she tried to hold back tears. 

"I'll go get Maester Luwin.." Jon told her. "Don't move." He ran off and Sansa heard him mumbling that this is why he hated dancing. She felt the hot tears on her cheeks. Her foot and ankle were throbbing.  _What if she couldn't dance at the feast._  The thought made her cry even more. 

Maester Luwin returned with Jon. He examined her foot shaking his head. She told him what happened, leaving out the part about dancing with Jon, she thought her Lady Mother would not like to hear that. 

"My child are you able to walk?" he asked. She nodded her head. She must try to walk or they would not let her dance tomorrow. Getting up she winced when she put weight on her foot. "Come Jon," Maester Luwin said, "We'll help you my lady." She put her arm over Jon's shoulder and her other arm over Maester Luwin. They guided down the hall to the chambers she shared with Arya. 

Once in the room, the maester sent Jon away to get ice and bandages while he had a closer look at Sansa's injury. "It does not seem to bad, my lady," he said. "A mild sprain and fairly ugly bruise. Someone really stomped on your foot. You are to stay off it for a few days." Sansa groaned.

"I must be able to dance at the first tomorrow!" she pleaded. "I must! The knights are here!"

Maester Luwin sighed. "My child, we'll bandage it tightly. You may be able to dance but it will hurt very much."

"I'm a Stark," she said. "Wolves aren't bothered by a little sprain." Maester Luwin chuckled a little.

"Alright, then, but you must be careful to not injure yourself further," he said. Leaning back he said, "Between Jon's bruised ribs from fighting and your bruised foot from dancing, I'll be quite ready to see these Vale Lords leave." Sansa dreaded the knights leaving. Things would be so boring when they left. 

Sansa spent the remainder of the day with her foot wrapped in ice propped on pillows in her bed. She desperately missed seeing the Knights in the dinner hall. Though, she enjoyed having her meal brought to her as if she was a Queen. 

That evening she was reading one of her favorite stories of Aemon the Dragonknight trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her ankle. There was a soft knock on the door. 

"Yes," she said. 

"Sansa," the voice called out. It was Jon. She told him to come him. 

"Here," he said holding out a lemon cake. "They are making them for the feast tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you, Jon," she said.

"I'm sorry about your foot," he said not meeting her eye. 

"I'll be ok," she said. 'Wolves heal quickly." He laughed when she said that. He turned to leave her.

"You know, you aren't a bad dancer. If you practiced.." she said. She was about to add  _and I could teach you._

He looked down with a slight smile and shook his head, "I think, I'll stick to fighting." Sansa watched him as he walked out of the room. She felt her heart sink,  _Fighting and dancing aren't so different, Jon Snow._


	2. Part 2 - Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon dreads the feast to honor the Royces' visit. While Sansa doesn't let a hurt ankle stop her from dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this for awhile. So glad I finally decided to finish it. Usually, I give things some time before publishing so I can go back and proof. With this one, I just decided to post it.
> 
> See end for more notes. (added 11/12)

**Jon**

Jon sulked off from Sansa's room. He was done with dancing. At least he had made her smile with a lemon cake, he thought. The sound of small boots running up behind him became louder. He knew it was Arya before he felt the punch on his arm. 

"Where were you?" she asked. Jon kept walking and didn't respond. Ayra went on talking. "Robb snuck off with Theon and that Royce to Wintertown."

"Good for them," Jon said. 

"They were looking for you," Arya added trying to match Jon's long strides. Jon was thankful they did not find him. A night at a tavern listening to his father's ward, Theon Greyjoy, talk about girls or whores or whatever it was Theon thought funny turned his stomach. 

"Well, they didn't find me," he said. Thinking that the Royce boy would not have wanted him to join them anyways. 

"We could go spy on them!" Arya suggested. Jon almost laughed at this. 

"Don't you think your Lady Mother will notice you're not in bed, little sister?"

"She's too busy preparing for the feast tomorrow," Arya answered.

"Oh, and how will you get past the guards," Jon asked. 

"That's easy. Fat Tom is on guard tonight. He's not fast enough to stop me," she said. Jon just shook his head and smiled at Arya. 

"And they'll tell Father who'll send Jory for you and tell your mother. That'll be the end of your fun," Jon told her. Arya shrugged. They reached the end of the hall and turned the corner together. Not more than 10 feet in front of them was Septa Mordane. Jon and Arya stopped in their tracks. 

"Arya!" she said. "I've been looking for you. It's much too late for you to running amok in the castle."

"Yes, Septa," Arya mumbled staring at her feet.   

"Come, child," she said. "Your mother wants you to bathe before the feast on the morrow." Arya moaned. Jon laughed again feeling a sharp stab in his ribs. Septa Mordane narrowed her eyes at him not saying a word as she pulled Arya along. 

"Goodnight, little sister," he said. Arya gave him a pained waved. Jon returned to his own room to fall asleep under the woolen blankets and summer furs dreading tomorrow's feast. 

Waking the next morning, memories of Jon's dreams haunted him. He had been alone in the Great Hall just come in from fighting in the yard. There was a part he couldn't remember, he had not been alone. A woman had been there, too. She had been in his arms. Each time he tried to recall her, she faded into the darkness.  _Who are you?_ She was humming even as she faded away.

Rising, he decided to go to the training yard and find a practice dummy to hit before he broke his fast. Maester Luwin would not like it for fear Jon would rupture his still healing ribs. Jon thought it was early enough that the Maester would not see him. 

Jon avoided his brothers and sisters for the rest of the day. Finding his hiding spot above the stables. Sometimes he carved poorly made animals and other times he took a book. Today he stole away to read of the great battles of the Targaryen princes. He found himself wishing there was a proper battle against the Vale. Instead, a little lordling was allowed to fly on a dragon in exchange for submitting to Targaryen role. Jon shook his head closing the book. Even he had to admit he didn't want to be rid of all Royces. He only wanted to be rid of one. 

Robb's voice rang out across the yard calling for him. It would be time to prepare for the feast. Lady Catelyn would want them washed and in fresh clothes. Leaving his secret spot he went to meet Robb. 

That evening Jon sat with his brothers at the table during the feast. Lady Catelyn must have forgotten to insist on him sitting with the squires. Or the Royces were not high enough lords for her to care where he sat. It was most likely the latter he thought to himself. The dinner wore on to slowly for Jon's taste. He drank the one tankard of ale his father allowed them wishing he could have another to calm his nerves.

The courses and drinking continued, the room got louder as the people got drunker. Even Lady Catelyn had a soft blush on her cheeks. Jon thought his Father had more than a soft blush and was smiling. People had gotten up to visit other tables and make room for the dancing. Across the room, Sansa now sat with Jeyne Poole giggling. Arya was nearby trying to listen to their conversation in earnest. Sansa glanced towards Jon a smile on her face. The candlelight behind them lit her hair. Blazing copper waves with braids pulling her hair back from her face.  _Winter's crown._  She stopped for a moment as their eyes met her smile frozen before turning back to Jeyne. She whispered something that made the other girl laugh. 

Jon looked down into his empty cups brooding to himself. He didn't see Sansa approach the side of his chair.  

"Dance with me, Jon Snow," she said in her high pretty voice. She was pretending not to wince in pain from her hurt ankle. He could see the pain written on her face. 

"I'll dance with you, anon," he replied raising his head a bit to catch a glimpse of her in her pretty dress. It would do her no good to dance and risk hurting her ankle further is what he told himself. 

Her smile faded. "But we practiced," she whispered.

"Anon," he whispered back not meeting her deep blue eyes.

"Anon," she whispered back walking away. Sansa passed her brother, Theon, and Waymar Royce.  Robb got up to dance with a Cerwyn girl that was at the feast. 

Waymar Royce took the opportunity to stop Sansa and pretend to be gallant by asking her for a dance. Just as she hoped, Jon thought. She will get to dance with a Knight. 

Jon watched Sansa dance with Ser Waymar. He was awkward and more than a little into his cups. Sansa was too polite to take notice. She moved tentatively despite that Jon thought she was the most elegant person on the dance floor. 

The dance ended and a blushing Sansa ran back to her table. Ser Waymar's eyes followed her. "Haven't joined the watch, yet" he laughed returning to end of the table with Theon Greyjoy while Robb continued to dance with another Lord's daughter.   
  
"Watchmen leave a few bastards behind when they come down from the Wall to visit the Lords, I hear," Greyjoy said with a loud laugh.  

"Ha, might have to come down off the Wall in a few years when that one's grown," Ser Waymar said. 

Jon had had enough. He got up from the bench walking to the end of the table where Ser Waymar sat. Picking up a carving knife he plunged it into the table next to the Vale knights hand, "Touch Sansa again and I'll kill you myself," Jon said with a low growl.   
That was enough to even wipe the smile off Theon Greyjoy's face. Ser Waymar and the other men nearby were stunned into silence. Jon walked out of the room leaving them to their feast. 

Outside the hall, Jon found Sansa sitting on a bench leaning against a tapestry of wolves and blue winter roses staring into the dark empty space. He sat next to her not saying a word. 

"What's wrong?" he asked. 

"Nothing," she said.

"Nothing?" he asked. "You got to dance with a knight."

"Yes," she said. He couldn't tell if she was smiling or not. 

"You didn't like dancing with him?" he asked.

"No...I mean that was fine. It was very chivalrous of him to ask," she said. "It's just..." Sansa turned to face him. It was too dark and he couldn't read her eyes. He wondered if she really believed it was chivalrous. They stared at each for a long time. Jon felt Sansa take his hand. He took it and they stood together. The only light in the hallway was from a torch at the other end of the passage or what could be seen spilling out of the Great Hall. The faint sound of music could be heard, a sad song about Queen Naerys and her brave Aemon the Dragonknight. 

Jon put his hand around her waist and she placed hers on his shoulder. They began to move to the slow song. "This song is so sad," she said. Jon thought he saw a tear glimmer on her cheek. He raised his hand to wipe the tear away. 

There was a coughing sound behind them. Jon whipped around and Sansa jumped. His father had left the feast and was standing no more than ten yards away from them. 

"Jon...Sansa..," he said sounding a bit confused. "Why ya not at the feast?"   
Thinking quickly Jon said, "I was just seeing Sansa to her room."

"Yes, Father," Sansa said. "I was tired. With my sore ankle, I fear I might turn it in the dark passageway."

"hmm.." he said trying not to lean against the wall in front of his children. "Well, off with you then..." He walked out to the yard. No doubt to go make water, Jon thought. 

Sansa giggled, "Do you think our Lord Father is..."

"Of course he's drunk," Jon said. Sansa giggled and put her hand to her mouth. 

Jon shook his head, "Come on let's get you to your room."

They walked slowly towards Sansa's chambers. She tried to hide the limp as she moved. Jon noticed she sometimes put more weight on his arm. He didn't mind at all. They reached her door sooner then Jon would've liked. 

"Thank you for seeing me safely to my chambers," she said to him. Jon did what he had seen his Father do many times. He leaned forward putting his hands on either side of her head and placed a kiss on her forehead. After kissing her, he held her head for a few moments longer before giving her a small smile and bowing. He thought he could see her blush in the dark torchlight. Not wanting to linger at her door, Jon walked back down the hall. 

Jon fell asleep after sneaking one more tankard of ale from the kitchen. He dreamt again of dancing around and around in circles in the Great Hall. The night was darker than any he had seen before, the snow drifts as high as the first floor of the castle. Still, he danced with a tall figure dressed in grey. She hummed a soft melody in his ear. Singing 'Dance with me, Jon Snow.' Every time he tried to see her face, she would turn her head away. He only felt the long auburn locks brush across his face as she spun. "Anon' he whispered. 'Anon'. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give a shout out to the meta that inspired this.   
> It's a long read and well worth it. It get's into the 'You'll dance with me, anon' which I changed up a bit. 
> 
> http://shinynewrevulsions.tumblr.com/post/165910944273/another-grey-girl-meta


End file.
